The morgue smelled like disinfectant and death.
I'd been waiting in the shadows for two hours when the first Verrat team arrived—four operatives, professional formation, moving through the hospital's basement level with the confidence of people who'd done this before.
They weren't alone for long.
Viktor's personal team came through a different entrance thirty seconds later. Different uniforms, different tactics, same objective. The two groups spotted each other across the morgue's main corridor, and the shooting started before either side could negotiate.
"That's our window." Monroe crouched beside me in the maintenance closet we'd claimed. "While they're killing each other."
"Wait." I tracked the chaos through enhanced senses—gunfire patterns, movement sounds, the wet impacts of close-quarters violence. "There's someone else."
Nick Burkhardt emerged from the stairwell like vengeance given form.
He'd been at his aunt's bedside when she died. Three hours of grieving, and now he was here, silver eyes blazing, weapons ready. He didn't care about factions or politics. Everyone in the morgue looked like an enemy.
[TACTICAL ASSESSMENT: MORGUE ENGAGEMENT]
[VERRAT: 4 OPERATIVES (HOSTILE)]
[VIKTOR'S TEAM: 5 OPERATIVES (HOSTILE)]
[NICK BURKHARDT: 1 GRIMM (UNPREDICTABLE)]
[OBJECTIVE: KEY ACQUISITION]
Nick hit the nearest Verrat agent with the fury of someone who'd watched his last family member die. The operative went down hard. His partner tried to respond and took a knife to the throat for his trouble.
"Now." I moved before the chaos could settle.
Monroe followed, our path weaving through overturned gurneys and scattered bodies. The fighting had spread—Viktor's team engaging the remaining Verrat, Nick carving through anyone who got close to him. Nobody was watching the actual morgue drawers.
Nobody except Scalpel.
The Geier surgeon had been planted as a morgue assistant twelve hours earlier—one of the contingencies I'd developed after learning about Marie's condition. His access was perfect. His timing was better.
I found him in the cold storage room, hands steady despite the gunfire echoing through the corridors.
"It's done." He handed me a small cloth bundle. "I removed it during the initial processing, before anyone else arrived. Standard autopsy procedure—no one questioned why I was examining the body."
The Key was smaller than I'd expected. Ornate metalwork, intricate engravings, warm to the touch despite being stored in refrigeration. It felt significant in a way that transcended physical properties—the weight of centuries pressing against my palm.
[ARTIFACT ACQUIRED: GRIMM KEY (1 OF 7)]
[SIGNIFICANCE: EXTREME]
[CLASSIFICATION: MAP FRAGMENT]
[NOTE: PART OF LARGER TREASURE CONCEALMENT]
"Get out through the service entrance." I pocketed the Key. "Don't return to Pack territory for at least six hours. Use the Seattle safehouse if you need to hide."
Scalpel nodded and vanished. The Geier had proven his value a dozen times since his recruitment—medical expertise, institutional access, the willingness to follow instructions without questioning why.
The gunfire was dying down. Someone was winning the corridor battle, and I didn't want to be here when they came looking for the prize.
"Side exit." Monroe led the way, his Blutbad senses tracking clear paths through the chaos. "Two hostiles near the loading dock, but we can—"
A figure stepped into our path.
Nick Burkhardt stood between us and the exit, blood on his hands, grief and rage warring in his silver eyes. He'd fought through Verrat and Royal agents alike to reach this point.
"You." His voice was hoarse. "I know what you are. I can see what he is." A gesture toward Monroe. "What the hell is happening in my city?"
"Your aunt just died." I kept my voice calm. "You're processing that through violence because it's easier than feeling. I understand. But we're not your enemies."
"Everyone here is my enemy. Everyone except—" He stopped, processing something. "You took it. The Key. She had something, and you took it."
"I took something that Viktor's people would have used to cause more deaths. Something your aunt was protecting." I met his eyes—silver to silver, Grimm to Grimm. "Marie died to keep this out of Royal hands. I'm going to make sure her sacrifice wasn't wasted."
Nick's grip tightened on his weapon. Behind him, I could hear movement—survivors from the corridor battle, coming to investigate.
"Five seconds before reinforcements arrive." Monroe's voice was tight. "Whatever's happening here, we need to decide now."
Nick's expression flickered—grief battling with something else. Recognition, maybe. The awareness that we weren't the ones who'd come to desecrate his aunt's memory.
He stepped aside.
"This isn't over." His voice carried the promise of future confrontation. "I'm going to find out what that Key does. And when I do, we're going to have a longer conversation."
"Looking forward to it." I moved past him, Monroe at my side. "For what it's worth—I'm sorry about Marie. She deserved better than dying in a hospital bed, surrounded by vultures waiting to pick her bones."
We vanished into Portland's night before he could respond.
The safe house was a converted storage unit in the industrial district—one of the emergency locations I'd established during the first week. No windows, single entrance, enough supplies to wait out a siege if necessary.
Monroe checked the perimeter while I examined the Key by candlelight. The engravings were old—older than any language I recognized—but the metalwork was precise, deliberate. This wasn't just a key. It was a piece of something larger.
"Seven keys." I spoke the information the Bestiary had provided. "Seven Grimms, centuries ago, hid something so valuable they split its location into pieces. Each key is a fragment of a map. Together, they show where the treasure is buried."
"And what's the treasure?"
"Unknown. But the Royals have been hunting these keys for generations. Whatever it is, they want it badly enough to kill everyone who stands in their way."
Monroe settled into a chair, his injuries from weeks of fighting visible in how carefully he moved. "So now we have one. Viktor will come for it."
"Viktor will come for everything." I tucked the Key into secure storage. "But that's tomorrow's problem. Tonight, we survived. We got what we came for. And we didn't have to kill Nick Burkhardt to do it."
"You let him see us. Let him see me."
"He was going to find out eventually. Better he sees us leaving a battle we didn't start than hunting someone he cared about." I leaned back, letting exhaustion settle. "Nick Burkhardt is going to be a factor in Portland's future. I'd rather shape that relationship than fight it."
The candle flickered, casting shadows across walls that had seen better days. Somewhere in the city, Viktor's people were regrouping, Verrat survivors were reporting failures, and Nick Burkhardt was probably standing over his aunt's body, wondering what happened to the thing she'd protected with her life.
The game had gotten bigger. The stakes had gotten higher.
But I had the Key. And tomorrow, I'd have a plan.
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